The Sacrifice
by AngryLeaf
Summary: Spock's first Pon farr comes. Jim wants to help, but...
1. It's a Vulcan Thing

"T'hy'la, there is something something of great import I must speak to you about." The half-Vulcan first officer stepped into Kirk's quarters and immediately sank on the sofa.

Spock's grave voice made Kirk smile. He loved when his science officer got all serious like that. Since that happened pretty much every time Spock opened his mouth, Kirk had a lot to smile about.

"Lay it on me," he said, taking a seat next to the Vulcan and slinging an arm around his shoulder. "I'm here for you, baby."

Spock relaxed his habitual stiff posture enough to lean against his captain.

"It is… difficult for me to speak of this," he said to his clasped hands.

Kirk squeezed him closer to his side. Vulcans didn't generally appreciate such close physical contact and Jim felt justifiably gratified to know that he was one of very few humans who had ever been such close proximity to Spock outside the confines of hand-to-hand combat.

He slipped a knuckle under Spock's chin and tipped up his face.

"Spock," he whispered gently, "you know you can tell me anything."

*******

It was comforting to know that Jim accepted him for all that he was and did not try (well, not very hard, anyway) to make him something that he could not be. Once again, Spock realized how fortunate he was to have this man in life.

"There is much you do not know about Vulcans, Jim," he said. "I have kept things from you."

He felt a warm rush of pleasure and acceptance when Jim squeezed him again. He was _very_ fortunate to have this man. He was immensely pleased he had not killed him after Jim had snuck back onto the Enterprise after being marooned on Delta Vega.

"You don't have to hide anything from me, Spock," Jim told him now. "What kind of a soul mate would I be if I couldn't keep your deepest secret?"

Spock's lips thinned as he debated the best way to tell his t'hy'la what was bothering him. It would not be an easy thing for Jim to hear; he risked losing everything they had gained over the past six months. And yet, if he failed to be totally honest now, he would certainly lose everything he had gained over the past twenty-eight years. Most specifically, he would lose his life.

He would have to be direct, he decided.

"The secret I must share with you is not solely my own," he murmured, staring deeply into Jim's ice-blue eyes. "It belongs to all of Vulcan and we do not even speak of it amongst ourselves."

He took a deep breath and turned away, afraid he could not continue. Jim's cool fingers grasped his chin again and moved his head back.

"Tell me, Spock," he whispered, his mouth just a hair's breadth away.

"Vulcan… biology is not like that of humans," Spock hedged.

Jim smiled radiantly and bumped his forehead against Spock's. The Vulcan caught his breath again. This was torture.

"Of course it's not!" the starship captain declared. "Bones grumbled so much that we're getting a brand new specialist in sick bay. Just for you."

"Dr. M'Benga will be unable to help me, Jim. This is not, strictly speaking, a medical matter."

Jim looked confused for a moment.

"But you said it was about biology…" His mouth dropped open and his eyes rounded and comprehension sank in. "Oh. You're talking about sex."

Silently, Spock nodded and stared at his hands again.

"I don't understand what the problem is."

"Jim, I did not mean to mislead you; I do not refer simply to intercourse," Spock began to explain. "The Pon farr is a mating drive that separates Vulcans from their logic, unleashing the passions we spend our entire lives holding in check."

"I still don't see the problem, Spock."

"Jim, if I do not mate during my Time, eventually I will develop plak tow and die."

Finally, Jim began to look concerned. Abruptly, he stood and began pacing around his quarters.

"Mate or _die_, Spock? Isn't that a little harsh?"

"It is neither cruel nor kind; it is merely biology."

Just as suddenly as he had started walking back and forth, Jim stopped in front of Spock.

"Well, I can't have the best officer in the fleet dying of blueballs, can I?" Jim grasped both of Spock's hands and pulled him to his feet. "You need extra sex? Have to jack off in between? We'll get you through this, Spock. I promise."

"Jim," Spock said plaintively, "you do not understand. The Pon farr is a compulsion to _mate_. Ordinary sexual relations will not alter its course."

Jim froze at that and to Spock's extreme dismay, frowned. After his mother's death, Jim had become the most important human in his life. Spock did not like to displease him.

"You mean you have to actually have to try to make a kid?"

Once again, Spock nodded.

"My body must believe this is so," he said by way of explanation. "In anticipation of my Time, I have discontinued my contraceptive treatments."

Jim stroked his square jaw thoughtfully, gazing at nothing.

"So, you just need to screw a woman while there's no pharmacological barrier to your own fertility? You don't actually have to get her pregnant?"

"Pregnancy is not necessary."

Jim's smile was like Earth's sun coming out after a foggy San Francisco morning.

"No problem, then!" he exclaimed. "We'll just get you a woman for however long you need one, and that's that. We'll still get through this. No problem."

Spock hated knowing that his next words would take away his t'hy'la's smile again, but they had to be said.

"You do not understand, Jim," he said, his voice quiet in his shame. "In the absence of a marriage bond, it is helpful if there is an emotional attachment. It is not imperative, but it increases the likelihood of survival."

Jim didn't just frown this time. His scowl was fierce enough to rival one of Dr. McCoy's.

"No!" he growled, shutting his eyes and gritting his teeth. "No, Spock, not her. Anybody but her!"

*************

Author's Note: Please let me know if this is good enough to continue.

disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek and I am not making any money from this fanfic.


	2. What Friends Are For

He had not expected his next audience to be any less difficult than his conversation with Jim.

Indeed, it was not.

Apprising Nyota Uhura of his condition and its cure was proving to be considerably more difficult.

"Let me get this straight," she said, placing her hands on her hips, her voice more shrill than was customary. "I wasn't good enough to date, but now you want to make me into a _brood mare_."

"While conception is not ultimately necessary, the attempt is a biological imperative, Nyo— "

"That's bullshit and you know it!"

"It is not 'bullshit.' During the Pon farr, a Vulcan male _must_ mate," he stated as plainly as he could given the circumstances. "If he does not give in to the compulsion, the need results in plak tow. An adrenaline-like hormone – there's no true human equivalent – builds up in his brain causing a fever that will eventually result in death."

Her hands dropped to her sides. She sighed and looked away, reminding him for one brief moment of his t'hy'la's reaction upon receiving the same information.

When she looked at him again, her eyes were no longer blazing with anger.

"There's no other alternative?" she asked quietly.

"None that are likely to be effective in my case," he told her. "I have already attempted intense meditation, but the symptoms continue to escalate. Once the plak tow sets in, I am likely to become more irrational than I have already become. I may become violent, and the required mating will be of a significantly more… passionate nature. The duration of the drive will also increase exponentially the longer I wait to sate it."

"So, it's mate or die, and the longer you wait, the rougher it's going be when you actually _do_ mate?" Although her voice carried none of the skepticism he was certain she meant it to hold, he was momentarily taken aback coldness implicit in her words.

She apparently intended for him to believe that his life was of little value to her. He decided his supposition was confirmed as she continued, "You're trying to tell me, unless I say yes right now, some other poor sap is going to suffer through inordinately rigorous, possibly violent, sexual intercourse with you?"

"You do not have to agree at this moment, Nyota," he said, resigned to the fact that she would not agree quickly, though by no mean ready to give up trying. "However, yes, the manifestation of my condition will continue become more severe the longer I wait."

"Shit, Spock," she said in an uncharacteristically inarticulate manner. "Why me? Can't you… self-stimulate your way through this? I know the Vulcan brain isn't given to fantasizing, but you're half human!"

"Masturbatory activities have proven unequal to the task."

"Not even with toys?"

He did not bother with a verbal answer.

"What about Jim? He won't help you?"

Spock was far enough into his Time to give in to the urge to sigh.

"Jim is most willing to help, but as this is a _mating_ drive, there is little that he is able to do."

"Have you considered engaging the services of a prostitute?"

He rolled his eyes.

"We have been acquainted for four point seven years, Nyota, and I trust you implicitly," he said slowly, carefully. "I would prefer not to risk exposing one of my people's most carefully guarded secrets by seeking a cure from one I neither know, nor trust."

She arched an eyebrow in what he realized was an unconscious imitation of the only facial expression he generally allowed himself.

"But you're willing to risk my physical, mental and emotional well-being?" she wanted to know. "When we agreed to remain friends, Spock, I didn't think that this would be a service required of me."

"Nor did I," he said in a flat voice. "If I had been bonded as a child as most Vulcans are, and if the one I had been bonded to had survived the destruction of my home planet, I would not have come to you. Indeed, the bond would have compelled me to seek her out at the first sign that my Time was upon me.

"But I was _not_ bonded as a child because the parents of all suitable females my age did not wish to tie their daughters to one of my heritage," he continued, his voice rising. "I do _not_ have a wife or a betrothed waiting for me, or rushing to me in my need. And in the absence of that, the best chance for my survival is to join instead with a woman with whom I have an emotional tie.

"_You_, who have asserted frequently and stridently for all the crew to hear that you continue to be my _friend_, are the only female remaining in this universe with whom I have an emotional tie. The only _other_ woman with whom I had such a connection, even were she alive for that connection to remain intact, would have been disqualified by virtue of having given _birth_ to me!"

Spock nearly was breathless by the time he completed his diatribe. He felt both shamed and slightly annoyed. He could tell from the way she looked at him that both emotions were evident.

She should have been angry with him, and perhaps she was, but the emotion most dominant in her expression was fear. Somehow he knew it was fear _for_ him rather fear _of_ him.

*******

Nyota wanted to scream, cry, hit someone (Spock), throw things and hug someone (again, Spock) all at the same time. Mentally, she berated herself for having told him that they could stay friends after he'd ended the romantic aspect of their relationship.

At the time, she'd rationalized that such things happened, and that she couldn't make him love her again or wish to remain with her through sheer force of will. For the good of the ship, she decided, she would stand aside gracefully. Any tears she cried would be in private.

Nobody liked a martyr, and a woman who could smile and laugh with her former lover, as well as with her replacement, had a much better chance of moving on than one who skulked around with sad eyes and drooping shoulders.

Suddenly, the role of the miserable dumpee seemed a lot more appealing than the well-adjusted just-a-friend. The truth was, and she wasn't foolish enough not to admit it to herself, she still loved him and what he'd asked of her really would wreak havoc with her emotional and mental health.

And, if she made him wait long enough, her physical health might be endangered, as well, she reflected.

But she'd seen more physical evidence of his emotional state in this single conversation than she seen throughout the entirety of the two and a half years they'd been in their illicit romance while she was his student.

She couldn't argue with what was right there before her eyes.

Like most Vulcans who followed Surak's teachings, Spock had a disinclination towards prevarication so deeply ingrained in his psyche, she would almost say he _couldn't_ lie.

The loss of control he had described was glaringly apparent (to her, at least), and if one aspect of his condition proved true, then it followed (when dealing with a Vulcan devoted to the path of logic) the rest must be as well.

Pon farr genuinely existed, for all that she'd never read about it in any of her research into Vulcan sociology, anthropology and biology.

The possibility of Spock's imminent death was as real as the shame and annoyance written all over his face.

"Shit, Spock," she muttered again.

*******

disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek and I am not making any money from this fanfic.


	3. A Desperate Decision

Nyota looked on as Spock gathered himself together again. His posture stiffened. His hands went behind his back. His face slowly loss all expression.

"Please forgive my outburst," he said formally. "As I informed you earlier, loss of control is one of the earliest harbingers of the Time. That is, however, no excuse for the way I just spoke to you. I am… sorry."

She chose her words with care. Torn between anger and fear (and fear was winning; he could die!), she didn't want either to render what she was about to say unclear to him.

"If there are any… consequences as a result of my participation," she said, "I expect you to fully support whatever way I choose to handle whatever may happen."

"I cannot make a promise to support an unspecified future decision, Nyota," Spock said. "You should be aware, however, that the probability of you conceiving is less— "

"Conceiving?!" Nyota's jaw dropped. "I'm not talking about having a baby Spock. We already know what will happen if you get me pregnant." She saw that Spock did not, in fact know what would happen if he got her pregnant, but she forged on anyway. "I meant that if there are any repercussions which end up having a negative impact on my career, I expect you to go to bat for me, Spock."

"'Go to bat for' you?" he asked, raising a curious eyebrow.

"I expect you to stand up for me," she said. "I expect you to protect me, as best you can, from any disciplinary action that might be traced solely to my compliance with your need for sexual intercourse."

For a moment, Spock continued to look confused, but he answered quickly enough to leave her almost reassured.

"I do not foresee such an action taking place as no one other than you, the captain and Dr. McCoy know of my condition and its best cure," he said, "but if it does, I am prepared to defend your actions to the best of my ability."

Nyota gave a small nod and somehow summoned a small smile.

"In that case, because I _am_ your friend, and because I hope I always will be, I will do this for you," she promised. "But I don't want anyone else to know about this, Spock. That's important to me. No one who doesn't already know. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"I mean it, Spock. _No_ one. Make sure the captain knows it, too."

Spock stared her for a long moment, his expression as unreadable as usual once again. Too late, she realized the arms she had wrapped around her torso in a protective stance belied any sense of ease she meant to convey.

"Thank you, Nyota," he finally said. "I will speak to Jim and to Dr. McCoy."

At the slight easing of her tense posture, he continued.

"In two days time the Enterprise will pass by a small M-class planet called Sbelisdim. Perhaps you have heard of it?"

"Yes. These days it's best known for its beach resort, but it was originally colonized because its interior regions have large deposits of minerals that are hard to find elsewhere in the galaxy."

"Precisely," he said "Starfleet Command has requested a report on the current levels of those deposits and on how they are being retrieved. The captain has already agreed to send two outside observers to Sbelisdim to collect data from the three largest mines.

"Collecting the data should take no more than three days. However, Jim has agreed to give us two weeks on the planet to complete our tasks should you agree to assist me."

"_Two weeks?!_ Is that how long this Pon farr lasts?"

Spock shook his head.

"The length of the Time varies depending on the individual, but the acute symptoms usually last between three and eight days. Since I am half human, however, there is no way to predict the parameters for my own experience of it. I doubt its duration will be longer than that which a full Vulcan would experience, but I believed, and the captain agreed, that it would be wise to prepare for as many eventualities as we could without unduly disrupting the operations of the ship."

"Because, heaven forbid the smooth running of the ship gets interrupted," she muttered. "It's just your _survival_ that's at risk."

Spock frowned at her. He actually _frowned_. Oh yes, Pon farr was real.

"Lt. Uhura," he said reprovingly, "you are aware of my belief that the good of the many always outweighs the needs of the one. While I admit that this scenario is an extreme case, you must know that I would not compromise the Enterprise's mission simply to avoid the embarrassment of seeking treatment on the ship. The trip to Sbelisdim was Jim's idea. He knows how Vulcans value their privacy and thought that I, and you as well, would be more comfortable if it were not obvious to the rest of the crew that we were spending a significant amount of time alone in one another's company."

"Of course," she agreed, mentally stowing the thought that "the captain" would also find it more comfortable if the entire ship wasn't wondering why his first officer had suddenly forsaken his company for hers.

Spock shot her a quizzical look, almost as if he knew what she was thinking, but those days were seven months gone, so she just forced a bright smile onto her face. He raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything further before turning to leave.

"Spock?"

"Yes Nyota?"

"Just now, you said 'best cure.' That implies that there are other available avenues to addressing your condition. Why not choose one of those?"

He turned back to face her.

"As I have already stated, intense meditation has been ineffective. The only other 'cure' aside from mating, is the kal-if-fee. The fight to the death. Who would you have me kill, Nyota?"

She lowered her eyes, resigned to the fact that she wasn't getting out of this obligation.

"Just let me know when I need to be ready to beam down," was all she said.

He turned again and walked out the doors to her quarters.

*******

Jim waited outside Spock's quarters.

"Walk with me," said the young starship captain, and began striding towards his own rooms. The first officer silently compiled.

Two minutes later, the pair reached the captain's quarters. Jim waved Spock in ahead of him before following.

He placed a hand on the half-Vulcan's shoulder as soon as the doors hissed closed behind them.

"What did she say?" he asked, his eyes on Spock's stiff back.

"She was reluctant, as you guessed she would be," Spock confessed, turning to his dark eyes towards him. "But she has agreed to accompany me to Sbelisdim."

"And the other part? The… mating?" he asked. "Will she help you with that, too?"

Concern flooded Jim's senses as he watched Spock try to push down the involuntary embarrassment he felt whenever the Pon farr was mentioned. Understanding how difficult it was for him to speak of such things — it was no picnic for Jim, either — he glanced down at the floor until Spock had composed himself.

"Lt. Uhura assured me, again, that she is my friend," he said. "She will not allow me to die if her actions can prevent it."

Jim squeezed his shoulder again.

"You don't have to do it this way, t'hy'la," he said, the Vulcan word slipping easily off his tongue. "We'll find another way. Bones is already looking into alternatives."

Spock's human eyes were sad, nearly desperate as Jim looked into their depths.

"There is no time," he whispered.

"I know," Jim said. "I just wish—"

The door chime sounded and he didn't get to finish wishing. He moved away from Spock and called for whoever it was to enter.

Dr. McCoy walked in as if speaking of the man had conjured him.

"We will speak more of this later, Jim," Spock said, and turned to leave.

"Spock, wait!" Jim called out. The half-Vulcan halted, but didn't turn. The tension in his stance was more pronounced than ever. Jim couldn't bring himself to make him speak further of his condition in front of Bones. "I'll stop your quarters later to settle the arrangements for the mine mission."

"Very well, Captain," Spock said. And then he was gone.

*******

Bones watched the stiff-backed hobgoblin leave his best friend's rooms, shook his head and turned his eyes on the handsome young captain.

"I don't know how much more the boy can take, Jim" he said. "And I don't know if there's anything I can do other than delay the inevitable."

Jim smiled at him, his bright blue eyes lighting up in genuine pleasure.

"Thanks, Bones," he said. "I really appreciate what you've been trying to do for him. I know you two don't always get along, but…" He trailed off as his eyes grew somber. "But, you're _both_ really important to me, and… "

Bones knew Jim was hurting way more than he let show. The doctor knew quite a bit about pain himself. He slung an around his friend's shoulder.

"I get it, kid," he said. "I'll do everything I can."

Once again, Jim's bright but sad eyes pinned his.

"You might not have to, Bones. Uhura said yes."

"Oh God, Jim."

*******

Spock was not surprised when the ship's chief medical officer arrived at this door.

"The captain has informed you of what is to come." It was a statement. "Are you here to provide some medical insight I might not be privy to?"

McCoy frowned. Spock had expected no thing else. It was the expression he most often aimed at him.

"No, Mr. Spock," he said. "I'm here to make sure you haven't already lost your God-damned Vulcan mind!"

Now Spock _was_ surprised, although he did not allow it to show in his face or posture.

"Explain, please," he requested.

"Do you even know what you're asking her to do?" McCoy sneered. "I will do everything within my power to save your life, you pointy-eared bastard. Because I took an oath, and because for God only knows what reason, you matter to Jim. But this… what you've proposed is preposterous!"

"I was unaware that you had become an expert in treating Vulcan conditions since we last spoke of this matter, Doctor," was Spock's dry response. He could feel his anger growing, but still retained enough control not to express it. "If you have come up with an alternate solution, please, share it with me so that I may inform the lieutenant that she is 'off the hook.'"

"Damn it, Spock!" McCoy snapped. "You know that I don't have an answer yet, and I wouldn't dream of asking you to die waiting for me to come up with one. But that girl is only doing this because she's in love with you! Why can't you use someone else to save your elfin hide."

"On the contrary, Doctor," he replied, "she agreed in spite of her affection for me."

"That's biggest heap of poppycock I've ever heard! 'In _spite_ of her affection'?" McCoy's hands fisted and unfisted as he shifted from foot to foot, then paced a small area of Spock's sitting room.

Without warning, he quickly approached and stared into Spock's eyes, his face only centimeters away. After seven point nine seconds had passed, the doctor drew back just as abruptly. Spock had not moved.

McCoy turned away and his shoulders dropped.

"I think you actually believe that," he said without turning around. "If you do, you've got a lot to learn about women. _Human_ women, anyway.

"Of _course_ that's what she wants you to think!"

"Again, you are mistaken, Doctor," Spock told him. "I know quite a bit about Lt. Uhura. She has displayed an integrity that I have found to be unmatched in other human females of any age. It is truly astounding to find it exists in one so young. She possesses a level of dignity that belies her years.

"When I tell you that she has agreed to the… mating despite her feelings for me, I base it on my knowledge of her personality and the way she thinks. While she can be, as all humans are, illogical at times, she employs far more reason in making her decisions than most of her species.

"She is also proud, Doctor, and would not thank you for believing that she is a helpless female, enslaved by her emotions."

McCoy gaped at him, clearly at a loss as to what to say next.

Spock felt some of his control slipping.

"You do not know her at all if you think differently," he added almost nastily. "It is _because_ of her close association that I need _her_ assistance in this matter."

He was gratified that the doctor left before his restraint was tested any further.

*******

Alone in her quarters, Nyota chanted to herself.

_You are strong_. _You can get through this_._ You know why he came to you_. _You will not let this break you_.

When she wasn't certain she truly believed in any of it, she repeated the mantra.

_You are strong_. _You can get through this_._ You know why he came to you_. _You will not let this break you_.

And again, when she feared it wasn't sinking in.

_You are strong_. _You can get through this_._ You know why_…

She was on her third recitation when she her chime go. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she searched for calm before instructing the computer to allow her visitor entry.

Dr. McCoy didn't waste any time in letting her know why he was there.

"You don't have to do this, Ms. Uhura. I'm working on figuring out alternate treatments for Mr. Spock," he told her. "And next week, we've got a Vulcan specialist joining us. I know this can't be easy for you. Frankly, I think they're asking too much of you. Say the word and I'll forbid you to go on this 'mission.'"

Nyota looked at the doctor sadly. She knew he wanted to help her, but saving Spock was more important than her pride, or even her heart.

"Will you be able to come up with a viable treatment before the fever begins?" she asked. "Can you guarantee he won't go crazy and die before this new doctor arrives?"

His silence and downcast eyes were all the answer she needed.

"I appreciate what you're trying to do for me, Doctor," she said softly. "You can't imagine how grateful I am to know there's someone looking out for _my _interests in this. But I can't let him die."

Bones grimaced.

"He doesn't deserve you."

She smiled ruefully.

"He doesn't want me," she said. "But he needs me. And once this is over, he isn't going to keep me."

Since there was nothing left to say, the doctor clapped her on the shoulder, then left.

*******

A/N: Reviews are golden. Let me know if this is coming off right. I'm not really sure if I'm capturing Spock's downward spiral.

disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek and I am not making any money from writing this.


	4. In Times Of Need

"I'm off duty, Captain," Uhura said as her door hissed open before Kirk's eyes.

He stepped inside, holding up his hands as if to ward off an attack. His smile was meant to disarm and as best he could tell it nearly worked. She didn't ask him to leave, in any case.

"I know that, Lieutenant," he told her, still smiling. "But if you'll just hear me out, I promise I'll be out of your hair in ten minutes — fifteen, tops. Okay?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, but she still didn't ask him to leave. He thought he saw a hint of a smile tugging at her soft-looking lips, but that might have been wishful thinking. A happy Uhura would take what he had to say way better than an angry Uhura, and he was pretty sure he wouldn't be seeing a happy Uhura for a while.

Sobering, he decided to get right to the point.

"Look, I know I'm the last person in the world who should be giving you relationship advice," he started. She snorted and then really did smile. Kind of. It didn't look like a happy one. "We haven't always seen eye-to-eye," he continued, "but I really like you and I've always valued your insight.

"And, be honest, if it wasn't for you, I'd probably be rotting in a Starfleet prison cell somewhere right now, charged with trespassing and interrupting a mission. You had my back then, even though I pissed you off all the time."

She wrinkled her nose at him and rolled her eyes. It was actually kind of cute.

"Shut up, Jim," she snapped, but there wasn't much heat behind it. "If it wasn't for _you_, there wouldn't have been enough of you _left_ to put in a cell because the Narada would have made sure we were spread out into about a billion pieces."

He grinned at her again.

"Maybe, maybe not," he half-conceded, "but my point is, you kind of stood up for me with Pike. And you were the first one to give me a chance as captain when everything was over. That matters to me, Uhura."

An unreadable expression flickered across her face briefly before she smoothed it back into its usual congenial placidity.

"Why are you here tonight, Jim?"

He sighed. He'd almost reached her. He was sure of it.

"I just wanted to make sure you knew… you don't have to do it," he said quietly. "If it's asking too much of you, just say something."

The heat that lit up her eyes at that was definitely anger.

"So, what? I'm just supposed to let him die?" She uncrossed her arms and look several steps towards him.

He threw up his hands again.

"No! Of course not! God, is that what you think of me?" He shook his head, annoyed that she might still think he was the reckless youth she'd met in an Iowan bar just under four years before. "Look. There are other solutions. That's all I'm saying. I told Spock he shouldn't do it this way, but he wants someone he knows. Someone he trusts.

"But I don't see why his Vulcan obsession with secrecy should put you at risk."

The tension in her shoulders loosened a little and she looked down at her feet. He figured it was safe to get close.

Tipping up her chin, he looked into her sad, dark eyes.

"You can always change your mind, Nyota," he whispered. "Spock won't like it, but he'll accept it. He'll have to."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small rectangular card that flashed and blinked a series of words and graphics across its surface.

"There are a lot of… facilities on Sbelisdim that can accommodate him if you decide this is too much for you." He pressed the card into her hand.

For a moment he thought she would reject it, just as Spock had done the day before, but she surprised him.

Uhura stepped even closer to him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"Thanks, Jim," she whispered into his neck. "Now get the fuck out of my quarters."

He felt the first drops of moisture sliding down her face as he returned her embrace.

*****

"It's one thing to have agreed to this because you want to save his life, Lieutenant," Bones protested. "That's bad enough in my book. But it's been six months since your last hypo and risking permanent consequences for a mission of mercy is just plain stupid!"

"Doctor — Leonard — I meant what I said," she retorted, schooling her voice to hide her irritation. "Spock's parents had to resort to genetic counseling in order to have him. It's highly unlikely that he'd be able to induce conception in any female in the absence of medical intervention. You _know_ this.

"And you also know that this might not work if he has any reason to believe that I am not an otherwise viable candidate. My answer was, and remains, 'no.'" This was her fifth refusal.

The ship's doctor frowned, dropping his hands, but apparently not in defeat.

"Ms. Uhura, I'm gonna talk to you as a friend, not as a doctor, okay?" At her nod, he continued. "I understand that you'd do whatever it takes to save his life, no matter what the personal price to you — I even applaud you for it. But this — you don't want to have a kid involved in this, Nyota. They don't get to pick their parents, and they never deserve to caught in-between whatever mess is going on with the people who made them."

Her face softened at the thinly-veiled reference to his own situation.

"I understand, Leonard," she assured him. "I _do_," she insisted when he would have protested again. "But even if Spock and I ended up making a baby, we wouldn't screw it up. Believe it or not, we really _are_ friends."

Just as he had on the day before, Bones realized there was nothing to be gained in arguing with her further. He sighed and began going through his other offerings.

He held up a small bottle.

"Lubricant — Spock said this can go on for days. You don't want friction damage in sensitive areas to stop you half-way through saving his life." He pretended not to see the faint blush warming her brown cheeks as he pulled a small machine out of his bag.

"Dermatological regenerator — just in case the lubricant isn't enough, or if things get a little rough." He set in on her table, then reached into the small black bag again to pull out several packets of pressure-sealed tablets.

"Painkillers in the three standard strengths. They're not the best I could give you, but none are habit forming or incapacitating."

Finally, he showed her a sleek hypospray.

"This one is loaded with five doses of enough sedative to put a hippo out for an hour," he told her. "And don't tell me you won't accept it. Spock told me what can happen during the mating game. If you don't take this and promise me that you'll use it if you need it, I'm not letting you off this boat, and the green-blooded hobgoblin can find a street walker to get the job done for all I care!"

She accepted the hypo, her face grim.

"I promise, Leonard, I'll use it if I have too."

The conviction in her voice left no room for doubt.

*****

Spock waited in the main transporter room. She would be there soon — her punctuality was one of her most dependable qualities. Still, in his altered state, he could not completely suppress a twinge of anxiety.

_What if she changed her mind_?

When Jim shot him a quizzical look, he realized he had been openly fidgeting. He clasped his hands behind his back and stilled himself with effort.

Two minutes passed before Nyota arrived — still early — with Dr. McCoy in tow.

She carried two small black bags, one clearly a medical kit, the other most likely containing items selected from the list of recommended clothing he had sent her soon after securing her cooperation.

"I am ready whenever you are, sir." She was looking at Jim, but Spock suspected the formal tone was directed at him.

"Mr. Spock?" Jim looked over at him.

"I am also ready to depart, Captain," he said, slipping the strap of his own bag over his shoulder.

They mounted the pad then turned to face Jim, McCoy and the transporter technician.

"I expect you to bring back a thorough report," Jim told them, and it took a moment for Spock to realize he referred to the mining survey.

"Indeed, Captain," he said.

Nyota said, "Energize," and the Enterprise faded away.

Dr. McCoy's scowl was the last thing he saw on the ship.

*****

Sbelisdim was aesthetically pleasing. That was to be expected. Aside from the unfamiliar vegetation and the furred creatures flying about, the main city bore a strong resemblance to resemblance to the holos Spock had seen depicting 19th Century Terran seaside resorts.

There were fewer beings walking around outside in than he had expected. He suspected the heat, close what would have been considered a warm day on Vulcan, was the culprit. While he was grateful, he noticed that Nyota's face was tight with tension.

Relieving her of her bags without asking, he quickly led her from the transport station to the hotel Jim had selected for them. Fortunately for his companion, it was just across the moderately busy street.

*****

"The captain was generous," she observed as they walked through the suite that would be their home base for the next two weeks. "I guess you're worth it."

Immediately, she regretted her snarky words, but didn't check to see Spock's reaction. Instead, she walked over to the French windows (very Earth-like, she noted) that allowed light from Sbelisdim's sun flood the suite's sitting room.

"We even have a view!" she said, filling her voice with as much false excitement as she could muster as looked out beyond the balcony to the beach.

"I believe there are two sleeping chambers," Spock said from behind her. "You should choose the one you would prefer to utilize."

At that, she did turn to check on him. He was standing behind a sofa, between two doors she imagined led to the bedrooms.

"I imagined that it would be necessary for us to share, Commander," she said, raising both eyebrows.

He titled his head slightly.

"That will be the case while the Pon farr lasts, but after I have recovered, such an arrangement will no longer be required."

Giving him a short nod, she walked over to check out the rooms.

.

She selected the smaller of two, inwardly noting that they would be more comfortable sharing the huge bed in the larger room.

And she didn't want to be reminded of what they did there every night they remained here beyond his Time.

She'd stowed her bag of clothing in her own room before carrying the medkit the doctor had given her back to Spock's room.

"Spock?"

He stood where she had left him, silent and unmoving, only halfway across the luxurious room.

"I am uncertain as to how I should proceed," he admitted, turning towards her.

"What do you mean?" She took a small step towards him. In truth, she was as uncertain as he was. "We've done this hundred of times."

Obviously struggling for something, either for patience or for a way to express himself, he closed his eyes in a slow blink.

"I know what was acceptable when we were… together; I am unsure whether the same parameters are in place at this time."

"Which parameters?"she wanted to know.

He breathed deeply before answering. She noticed that his hands, hanging at his sides instead of clasped behind his back as usual, were trembling.

"While we were romantically involved, I would have engaged you in pre-coital stimulus to ensure that you were suitably aroused and lubricated before being intercourse," he explained. "I do not know if such ministrations would be welcome under the current circumstances."

Uhura took another step in his direction, but halted when she noted the nearly imperceptible stiffening of his posture.

"Spock, I… I would say that such actions are even more _necessary_ now than they were when we were a couple," she told him, wringing her hands together. "This whole situation is awkward. Perhaps familiar… routines would make our… task less difficult to accomplish."

He gave a short nod.

"That is a reasonable supposition," he agreed, but stiffened again when she took yet another step towards him.

She stopped short, confused by his reactions to her movement.

He must have seen and deciphered the emotions playing across her face, because next he said, "It would probably be wise if you were to remove your clothing before we begin. I would not wish to damage your garments should my control fail to…"

Alarm replaced her confusion, but she nodded quickly in understanding. _Damage_?

"Right," she said aloud, spinning on her heels and scanning the room for her clothing bag. "That would be… prudent. I'll just go to the bathing room to…" She looked around the room once more without success.

"Nyota," he called softly, and she turned to face him once more. "If you do not wish to retrieve your own belonging, I believe the establishment will have provided robes."

Suddenly, she remembered she'd left the clothing in her own room, and heaved a sigh of relief. If he could still think clearly enough to anticipate her needed and suggest a solution, he couldn't be too far gone.

"Thank you," she said, and strode towards the 'fresher.

.

Spock listened to the sound of the door closing behind Nyota before leaving his place in the center of the room. Fighting against the impatience threatening to drive him from his senses, he slowly removed his garments, folded them and placed them on a chair near the bed.

Once he was fully unclothed he slid between the cool sheets on the large bed.

He had not been lying there long before Nyota emerged, swathed in a thick white bathrobe several sizes too large for her small frame. Immediately, he felt reason begin to slip away from him. He watched her silent approach as he wrestled it back in place. His body required a female, he understood this.

But the woman walking towards him, nervously biting her lip, was his friend and deserved better treatment than what his instincts told him he should do to her.

Although she did not move quickly, once she reached the opposite side of the bed, she did not hesitate pull back the sheets, drop her rode and climb inside.

He reached for her.

.

When Spock pulled her to him and his lips found hers, Nyota was startled by the familiarity of his actions.

She _knew_ those hands closing over her shoulder and wrapping around her waist, pulling her against his heated skin.

She _knew_ this mouth brushing against her own, desperately seeking, trailing fire down her neck, across her clavicle before finally covering her nipple and eliciting a small cry from her own throat.

As had happened countless times before, his touch instantly opened an empathic link between them and within seconds his arousal became her own. She knew she it wouldn't take very much "pre-coital stimulus" for her to become ready.

But not everything was familiar.

This was not desire to connect and to share pleasure with a lover. It was a raw need for the act itself. This wasn't about her. Just as he'd described it, the Pon farr was about mating.

As if he sensed her discomfort, he drew back, hesitating as his dark eyes bored into hers. She felt his hands tremble with the effort of holding back and all of her uncertainty vanished. This was about survival.

"It's okay, love," she murmured, tangling her hand in the dark hair covering his chest and pulling his head down, his mouth back to hers, even as she mentally kicked herself for using the endearment. "It's okay," she repeated against his lips.

And then the fire took her as well and she was no longer capable of thinking of anything beyond the joining.

*****

Nyota lay on her side, curled into herself. As if she were disgusted with his actions or afraid of him. She was as far away from him as the large bed and his own position would allow her to be. Spock had not anticipated this.

He had brought her to completion. That, at least, he was sure of.

If she had still been his, he would have held her cool body in his arms as they both enjoyed the sense of connectedness that always followed in the wake of their lovemaking. Instead she, who had suggested that they act as if they were not parted, had moved away from his as soon as his lok had softened inside of her, following his own shuddering climax.

"Did I cause you injury, Nyota?" he asked, grasping at the only logical possibility for the distance she sought.

She turned over to face him, but did not move closer.

"I am uninjured," she said, her voice toneless.

"Did you… did you not find your pleasure?" He knew from the link that she had, but perhaps there was more that she required. Something he had failed to sense through his own maelstrom of burning need.

"Is it over?" she asked instead of answering his question, her still-flat voice devoid of both hope and despair. "Are you cured?"

Her deflection did not go unnoticed, but Spock could already feel the heat rising in him again. He knew it would be easier for both of them if he could answer in the affirmative, but lying served no logical purpose.

"No," he told her. "The need has been temporarily abated, but I am not 'cured' yet."

"Okay," was all she said in response.

He reached for her again.

**********

Author's Note: I wanted to thank everyone who has reviewed -- even those of you who don't like what's happening. Feedback really helps. I also wanted to apologize for taking so long to update. I had to reconfigure (and add to) the final two chapters (and I might have to make them three) -- and I wouldn't have known I needed to do it if you guys hadn't been reviewing!!

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek and I do not get paid for using its characters.


	5. Misunderstandings

Nyota endured. She didn't thrive. She didn't revel in the physically pleasurable, but emotionally barren sex he required several times a day, every day, just to fight off the fever that threatened to consume him. She carried on, refusing to be broken.

Only once had she tried to discuss what they were doing.

"You didn't need me for this," she'd protested, late on the second day. "Any female would have worked. Do you even know it's _me_? During, I mean. Do you even realize I'm there?"

He'd been stating at her from across the bed, dark eyes unreadable again.

"I know I am not alone 'during,'" he said quietly. "After, in moments like this one, I know _you_ are here. 'Any female' would not…"

He hadn't finished, but she understood anyway. These brief instances of lucidity would have brought embarrassment if someone else had been there to see him, to remember the things he had done.

By the middle of the second day his lack of feeling for her no longer gave her pause. She made herself stop thinking about how the cold purpose behind their repeated joinings seemed so diametrically opposed to the elements that made up the actual deed.

Somewhere between the fourth and fifth days she became inured to the idea that she was merely an object he utilized in his battle against death. So long as he lived, little else about their predicament mattered.

Nyota held on to the few things for which she believed gratitude was warranted: she had not yet needed the dermatological regenerator; the bottle of lubricant was nearly used up, but another could be easily procured; the joinings were decreasing in both frequency and intensity. Soon enough, she would be free to pretend these days had never happened.

*****

She did not roll away from him right away this time. Her cool skin continued to press against his as the haze of need dissipated and suddenly he became aware of the suffocating sensation of her exhaustion, her shame and her resignation to bear all without complaint.

With such a shallow link as the one that was engendered by their skin-to-skin contact, he could not sense the source of her trauma, but he could surmise.

When he had hesitated that first day, she had called him "love" and touched him as he had been afraid to touch her. And yet no evidence of the love she claimed had reached him through the link. Anger welled up inside of him.

_She had lied_!

He bit back a growl at the thought.

Her breathing evened out and she moved to her side of the bed at last. He did not attempt to stop her or question the alteration of her emotional state.

Human emotions, he reminded himself now that he was free of her, evolved and changed more easily than those of their Vulcan counterparts, and they were not always adept at noticing this.

_Perhaps it was my own actions that have destroyed her love for me_? He wondered if their friendship would survive.

This time, the low growl made it past his lips.

A vibration rippling through the mattress caused him to turn his head.

She was reaching a hand towards him.

_Physical contact would not be wise_.

"Do not touch me, Nyota!" he bit out.

She flinched, almost imperceptibly, but moved no closer.

"O–okay," she said.

The catch in her voice was almost physically jarring, and Spock realized that she was afraid.

_Of him_? He thought of the hypospray he knew Dr. McCoy had insisted she bring with her. _Would she attempt to use it now_?

He struggled to calm himself. He did not wish to add the confusion of the tranquilizer to the garbled thoughts caused by the need of his Time. Deep breaths and narrowed concentration almost led him to his center.

"I would never deliberately harm you," he told her in far more restrained tones. "My control is… not as strong as it should be by now. The last time, I – I did not properly prepare you… ."

She waved a hand dismissively, but he had felt her emotions and knew she was not as at ease as she wished him to believe. The knowledge displeased him, but he said nothing.

"You were fine," she insisted. "I remain uninjured." Tucking the hand under her cheek, she continued to study him with concerned eyes.

_Perhaps she remained his friend, after all_.

"The Pon farr nears its end," he told her. It was true, he realized. Already, his thoughts were clearer for longer periods of time. "I believe intense meditation shall suffice for the time remaining. You may leave… that is, you are free to retire to your own sleeping chamber."

He was not certain he understood the expression that crossed her face in response.

Her eyes widened and her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. Her nostrils flared a little when she pushed herself up off the bed, and he started.

"I'm fine, Spock," she assured him. "A little stiff, a lot tired, but I'm not really hurt."

Turning her back to him, she reached for a robe, identical to the one she had claimed that first morning, slipped her arms into it and quickly belted it closed.

"I think… I think I'm going to take a bath and then maybe, maybe the beach," she said, just barely glancing over her shoulder at him. "We've been hear almost a week and the closest I've been is the balcony.

"I–I won't go swimming. I'll have my communicator if you…" She trailed off and looked down at her bare feet.

"I will contact you if meditation fails me," he told her.

She nodded once without looking at him again.

He watched her limp away from him and disappear out the door.

*****

"You may enter, Nyota," he told her from his seat on the floor. "I have finished meditating for a the moment."

The firepot's full glow could not compete with the mid-morning light streaming in through the glass balcony doors at his back. He was left silhouetted against the gauzy white curtains and she couldn't tell whether or not he was having an expressive moment.

Nyota thought there might have been a note of amusement in his voice, but dismissed it as unlikely. There had been nothing amusing about the past six days. She didn't enter.

"I'm going now," she told him from the doorway. "There's a cove not too far from here. The concierge said almost no one uses it because the beach is small and there are trees and… anyway, that's where I'll be. I've got my communicator."

The dark form shifted a little. He was watching her now.

"Enjoy the day," he said.

.

Extinguishing the firepot, Spock rose to his feet after she left the suite. Away from her presence, he found he could more easily analyze, and therefore compartmentalize, his emotions. Of particular interest, he found, was the _guilt_ he felt over using her to answer the call of the Pon farr. It was something he would have to study further at a later date, he decided.

Making his way to the bathing chamber, he selected a water shower. It was not something he chose often — sonics had been the norm on Vulcan, and on starships — but the soothing effects of hot liquid falling against his flesh were undeniable. And even he had suffered some physical strain from the mating.

The heat and pressure of the water combined to him ease into a condition not unlike the meditative state that allowed his people to function as logical beings.

Guilt entered his consciousness again as his muscles loosened his skin was cleansed.

_It would seem_, he reflected, _that this new emotion will not wait after all_.

*****

He found her not long before sunset.

Nyota had spent her day in a wooded cove not far from the more popular beaches of the main resort. The crystal green waters of Sbelisdim's sea had called to her, but she remained out of the water, as promised.

Instead, she walked the tiny strip of stand that passed for a beach and explored the grove of trees she'd been assured was entirely safe and free of dangerous animals.

The balance of her time, she spent curled up on a blanket under an atypically broad tree, reading past reports on the mines she and Spock would visit the next week, or eating from the basket of food the concierge had insisted she take with her.

Free of Spock's overwhelming presence, she found herself relaxing. The numbness she'd courted to carry her through each empty joining began to melt away under the heat of the resort's sun. At times, pain threatened to snatch away her growing content, but she would not allow it.

_There would be plenty of time_ _to feel sad_, she mused,_ when we're safe at home_.

She heard him coming through the trees, his footsteps recognizable to her sensitive ears even in the unfamiliar terrain.

She stood, stripped off her long T-shirt and kicked off her sandals.

"I'm going for a swim," she announced, without turning to greet him.

And then she took off, not stopping until the warm peridot-colored water wrapped her in sanctuary.

.

Spock was not surprised that she had run away from him. He wondered that she had not done so before.

Her lithe form cut the water swiftly at first. Lean but muscular arms and legs propelled her away from the beach, until, reaching some apparently predetermined point, she stopped, twisted and floated on her back.

He sat on the blanket she had abandoned, crossed his long legs beneath him and looked out to sea. Her red one-piece suit was like a beacon in the green ocean.

Twenty-three point two minutes later, the last rays of the sun began to slip below the horizon. Nyota remained in the water.

Like his homeworld, Sbelisdim had no moon, and he had not had an opportunity to familiarize himself with all of the amenities offered by the resort. As the darkness rapidly stole over the cove, he experienced a cold sensation he recognized as fear. She would not be able to see in the minimal light offered by the stars.

_Surely she would not risk drowning just to avoid me_?

He was in the water before he had a chance to second-guess his actions.

.

She had not questioned his order to return to shore. He had called her "Lt. Uhura" and unnecessary disobedience was not in her nature.

She did question his motivations when he picked up her towel and began drying her hair.

"Come on, Spock," she protested, batting at his towel-covered hands. "I'm not a little kid and I didn't hurt myself out there. I can do this myself."

Defeated, he dropped his shoulders, his hands and the towel.

"Yes, I know," he said. "My apologies."

Shaking her head vigorously enough to spray water against his bare chest, she retrieved the fallen towel and began completing the task he had left unfinished.

"For a second there," she noted, a small forced smile on her lips, "I thought you were feeling guilty. But, of course, that would be illogical of you. This was my choice, after all."

"Illogical, but correct, nonetheless," he admitted. "You have received insufficient rest and nutrients in your efforts to ensure my survival. And you sought to seclude yourself here because of my actions. You swam out there. risking your life, because I intruded on your solitude.

"If you had died… Nyota, you are still my friend, and—" Without finishing the thought, he lifted his hands again to close them around her bare shoulders and pull her against his chest.

He did not finish the thought because he felt an icy rage rising inside her even as her body stiffened.

*****

"What the hell was _that_, Spock?" Her anger was apparent as the love he now realized she still felt for him. "Don't even bother trying to dodge the question. I know what I felt. You _love_ me! How could you do that? How can you sleep with him when you still want me? How can you… how could just let me go on _hurting_ like that if I still matter?

"You still love me and you left me to be with a man who means nothing to you!"

He flinched at the volume of her voice, but did not push her away. In spite of the irritation her chaotic and conflicting emotions caused him, he reveled in holding her without the burn of the plak tow or the all-encompassing need of the Pon farr.

"You were mistaken in your assumptions. Jim has never been my lover, but he does not 'mean nothing' to me," he told her. "I did not leave your bed for his, Nyota.

"My counterpart explained to me that there are great things which, together, Jim and I might accomplish. Things which neither of us could do alone. None of those things could happen I did not learn to accept his friendship.

"Please do not think that I acted out of a desire for glory. Many lives might be saved if the captain and I can learn to act together. Is not saving those potential lives more important than our personal happiness?

"I ended our association because I did not believe I could become the friend I needed to be to him while you were meeting the whole of my emotional needs. You deserve to be loved wholly and completely, k'diwa. You would be disappointed with anything less. I did not wish to become a disappointment to you, Nyota."

"That's the most ridiculous piece of crap I've ever heard come out of your mouth!" she exploded.

"It is no more ridiculous than harboring the idea that I might have a romantic or sexual interest in Jim, or that he might have such an interest in me," he stated. "You have seen repeated evidence suggesting that the captain's preference is for women. Indeed, you were once the object of that preference yourself.

"And you have personally accumulated empirical data concerning my own sexual proclivities. When have either of us given a reason to believe that this has changed?"

He could feel confusion and uncertainty begin to chip away at her ire.

"You're in his quarters every night!"

"We play chess, or sometimes poker. Dr. McCoy is often also there," he explained. "And there are reports to complete. Jim is still learning to tolerate 'paperwork.'"

"He's always touching you," she insisted. "Nobody_ else_ touches you as much as he does."

Spock was not so far from his Time that he could easily suppress a frustrated groan, so he refused to try.

"_You_ used to touch me a great deal more."

"Exactly!" She stamped a foot to emphasize her point.

"But, Jim touches many people, Nyota," he continued as if she had not spoken. "That is his was of connecting with his crew. I have come to accept and even appreciate it, since, as you noted, no one else wishes to be in physical contact with me."

"No one else touches you because everyone on this ship has been briefed on Vulcan cultural mores!" she exclaimed in exasperation. "Jim, not surprisingly, apparently thinks he is above honoring the culture of other species. What _is_ surprising, if you're really not sleeping with him, is that you allow it!"

He could not stop himself from narrowing his eyes at her as he thought about his recent months of celibacy.

"And don't look at _me_ like was the one I broke your favorite toy," she snapped. "_You_ were the one to end things. Any touching I did in the past was a reflection of my unique place in your life."

"You are currently touching me in several places," he pointed out dryly.

She looked down at the hand still enmeshed in the dark hair covering his chest and started to pull away. He wrapped a strong arm around her waist to hold her in place.

"What about the long, meaningful looks on the bridge?" she asked. Clearly, he had not convinced her of the veracity of his motivations.

"Merely an attempt to keep the captain's behavior within the realm of professionalism," he explained calmly. "You are fully aware of his propensity to 'leap without looking.'"

"That's—!"

Spock traced her lower lip with his index finger, halting her flow of words.

"That is the truth, Nyota," he murmured, his dark eyes focused on her trembling mouth. "Vulcans do not lie."

He could feel her struggling against the confusion of her opposing emotions and knew he should release her, stop touching her. But the hormones that had been coursing through his body for the past nine days — since before they had left the Enterprise — had not completely dissipated, and he did not _want_ to let go.

A low growl was all the warning he gave before dipping his head to replace his finger with lips.

His body responded immediately to the taste of her. His heart rate increased five point three percent and his lok strained against his swim trunks.

He lifted his head only when her need for air became apparent through the link. By then, he was already busy tugging at the straps of her bathing suit.

"You said we were finished with this," she gasped between breaths. "You said you could get through the rest with meditation."

He yanked the straps free at last, revealing her gorgeous breasts. "I was mistaken," he said. "I did not account for external stimuli."

Then he buried his face in her cool skin.

.

This time, he had been the one to move away immediately after it was over. Uhura suspected there was finally enough Spock back inside the half-Vulcan's shell for him to actually realize just how unhappy she had become.

"Do you even understand why this is so much worse than if you really_ had _left me for him?" she asked from under the cover of the blanket. Her suit lay in a pile on the sand half a meter from where she sat, pressing her side against the tree.

He did not. She could see that from the set of his shoulders and his silence.

"Damn it, Spock!" she whispered, caught somewhere between anger and misery. She turned her gaze to Sbelisdim's crystal green sea.

General fucked-up-ness she could deal with. It was something she could fight against, knowing that she was right. His cluelessness — his genuine belief that he had made a choice that was, while painful for both of them, truly best for the universe made her feel as if all of her arguments would be futile.

_The true believers, the fanatics, are most dangerous ones_. She'd learned that lesson in her first Hostile Diplomacy unit at the Academy.

She felt the intense Vulcan heat rolling off him even before his arms came around her from behind, pulling away the blanket, and he curled his body into hers.

"Please don't do that," she begged, her voice barely audible to human ears, her body stiffening. "No matter how reasonable you think I am, I'm an illogical, human woman. I can't just analyze my emotions, put each one in a compartment and live my life. I'll never be Vulcan, Spock."

He held her closer.

"Neither will I, k'diwa," he murmured in her ear. "I did not know you would feel this way. Your emotional responses continue to challenge my understanding of human behavior as a whole. You do not react in ways I have been taught to expect a human woman to behave. You are different from the women Jim and Leonard describe.

"That is a trait I have always admired in you. It is part of what makes me love you, but it is also the reason I sometimes fail you.

"I do not wish to continue failing you, Nyota. I do not wish for you to be unhappy."

His shields were down again, and the weigh of his love and desperation threatened to crush her.

Less than seven months ago, the words he'd just spoken and the emotions he continued to broadcast would have been like the sun to her.

_Wanted_.

_Joyfully accepted_.

_Needed_.

Now they simply represented the possibility of a future filled with insurmountable misunderstandings.

She wasn't inherently pessimistic — she knew that much of what had transpired could have been averted if he had told her why from the beginning, if he had given her a chance to protest. Whether she had been successful or not, she believed, they wouldn't be sinking under their combined sorrow right now. She knew that eventually he could learn not to inadvertently shred her heart.

But now was not then and she didn't know if the time would ever come.

"The thing about love is, the more of it you give, the more of it you have _to_ give," she told him. "I know you don't fully understand that, Spock. Not yet, anyway. And until you do, you need to let me go."

He continued to hold on.

**********

Author's Note: Thanks to those of you who have stuck with this story. I needed to do even _more_ revision than originally intended because I realized this chapter was not only really long, it was also really M-rated. After taking out the explicit stuff, it was still kind of long, so I split it in half. I'll try to get the last chapter cleaned up (so it reads like a stand-alone chapter rather than the half a chapter appears to be right now) and posted by Saturday.

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek and I do not get paid for using its characters.


	6. A Moment In Between

Nyota leaned back into his embrace. Later, she knew, there would be a price to paid for her indulgence, for now though, she allowed herself to bask in his warm presence.

That didn't mean she was ready to let him off the hook, however.

"That last time," she said, eyes still trained on the sea, "it wasn't just the Pon farr, was it? The other times, you weren't there. I mean, it was your body, but not quite your mind."

Spock sighed into her damp hair.

"You are very observant, k'diwa," he told her. "When the Pon farr strips us of our logic, it leaves behind only the need. I have not been fully 'present' during the bulk of our coital activities this week.

"However, we made love" she flinched at his chosen term "just now because I wanted you, and because I was still too close to my time to control my desire."

She turned in his arms to look at him.

"Are you telling me that you _wanted_ to control it?" she demanded. "Are you saying you regret what just happened?"

"Regret is illogical, Nyota," he admonished. "I am saddened that my actions might cause you additional duress in the future, but it would be pointless to regret what has already occurred.

"I have become accustomed to mastering my desire for you," he continued. "If my body had been free of the mating hormone, I would have done so this evening, as well. In the future, I will do again."

Nyota felt her body go cold. She didn't care if he could sense how much his words hurt her; pride was the least of her considerations as a wash of anger-infused misery stole over her body.

His arms began to slacken as she focused her pain in hopes that he would share it through their contact. But so deep was her sorrow, she was unable to enjoy her success. Wrenching herself away from him at last, she snatched up her bathing suit and walked to the edge of water to rinse it off before climbing back into it.

She didn't speak as she gathered up the blanket, towel, basket and PADDs.

In the dark of the night, she made her way back to the hotel by memory alone.

It seemed that she would have to pay much sooner than she had anticipated.

*****

Spock sat naked on the sand for a long time after she left him. The intensity of her pain prevented him from functioning at optimal levels. His internal clock was not operational; he nearly forgot to listen to make sure she reached the main resort in safety. Nearly. An idle, very unVulcan, thought flashed across his mind.

_If she should become injured on her return to our suite_, he mused, _that shall be my fault, as well. And, surely, I would cease to function altogether_.

He had expected her to be angry when he informed her that their most recent copulation had not been an attempt at reconciliation. He was well aware that she would require more from him than emotionally satisfying sexual intercourse should he wish to attempt to resume his previous relationship with her. He knew better than to try unless he had that "more" to offer.

As he did not, and did not foresee a future when he ever would, he had given her honesty instead.

He had expected her anger, perhaps even a little sadness or disappointment.

The icy sense of… violation he had sensed instead was unexpected and… incapacitating. He did not understand where she had found the power to stand and walk away.

Dr. McCoy had accused him of not understanding human women; he had countered that Nyota not like other human women. And while it was true that she was stronger and more reasonable than others he had become acquainted with during his years with Starfleet, he the knew his implication had been that he _understood _Nyota better than the doctor did.

Spock began to suspect he had overstated his case.

**********

Author's note: I know this is super-short, but I had to use it as a bridge between the other two chapters. Sorry if you got the last update notice!! I made a mistake and had to fix it.

Disclaimer: I am not being paid to write fanfiction and I do not own Star Trek, any Star Trek characters or Star Trek concepts


	7. An Unexpected Ally

Kirk tapped an idle rhythm against the armrest of the command chair. He shifted in his seat. Crossed and re-crossed his legs.

Bones watched his friend until he was ready to tear his own hair out.

"Jim," he whispered fervently, "you're jumpier than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rockin' chairs! What the hell's the matter with you?"

Releasing a long sigh, the captain leaned forward and stood.

"I'll be in my ready room with Dr. McCoy," he announced to bridge at large. "You have the con, Mr. Sulu."

The helmsman turned at his station and gave a short nod. "Aye, sir," he said.

Striding across the bridge, Bones practically on his heels, Starfleet's youngest starship captain in history entered his office.

.

Jim swung around the minute the door hissed shut behind them. Bones nearly barreled into him.

"Have you heard from them?" his friend asked.

Bones frowned. He knew exactly which "them" the captain was talking about.

"No," he said as evenly as he could manage.

Jim started pacing.

"Shit! I mean, I didn't expect to hear anything from Spock. He told me he'll basically go crazy, well what Vulcans consider crazy, anyway, for about a week or so, but I thought for Uhura would be in contact. It's been a week!"

The unbidden, un_wanted_, thought hit the older man before he could stop it. He shook his head to clear it. Uhura would have shot the hobgoblin up to his ears in tranquilizers before she'd let him injure her so bad she couldn't check in.

"Maybe they've been… busy, Jim," he offered instead of voicing the niggling concern.

For a moment, a lecherous grin lit the kid's face. "I get _that_ part, Bones," he said. Just as quickly as it had lit up, his face darkened again. "But what if there's more going on?"

Not wanting to acknowledge his own fears about the situation, Bones went on the offensive.

"Well, if you're so damned worried, why don't you give her a call?"

This time, Jim's smile was full of the devil's mischief. "I think that's a job for the ship's chief surgeon, wouldn't you say, Bones?"

******

Six hours later, the Enterprise was docking at Starbase 16 to pick up supplies before their return trip to Sbelisdim. The visit would be quick, they hadn't used much of their stores over the eight months that had passed since the start of their fiver year mission, so Kirk gave a general order allowing crewmembers to leave the shift in two-hour shifts. He assigned himself and the rest of the senior staff to the final shift, noting that, if they had to leave early, it would look better if they were the ones to get screwed out of their leisure time.

By the time their turn came around, Bones had managed to a short conversation with Uhura via subspace where she assured him that she hadn't "killed him. Yet." so he was in a good enough mood to take Jim up on his offer for drinks and abbreviated bird hunting.

Neither officer was really ready for the surprise waiting for them on the base.

.

Ambassador Spock seemed pleased to see them, but kept glancing over their shoulders at the starbase's transporter pads.

Three or four minutes into Jim's obliviously incessant talking and Spock's unsubtle searching, Bones decided he'd had enough. Besides, he needed a drink. Sulu, Scotty, and even Chekov, had left also as soon as they'd materialized. He hated thinking of them beating him to the punch, so to speak.

"You lookin' for something, Ambassador?" he wanted to know.

The old version of Spock smiled. It wasn't the mere lip-twitch the younger elf had been known to let slip once in a while before the whole break-up thing had gone down. This was a full-on stretching of lips and crinkling of eyes. Bones wouldn't have believed it possible if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes.

"My apologies, Leonard," the half-Vulcan said. "You, know doubt, have an appointment with the fine bourbon available at Lounge 16."

Bones shook his head. It was still creepy thinking that this virtual stranger knew so much about his proclivities.

"When I heard that the senior staff would be arriving in the final leave shift, I decided to meet your party. I had hoped, however, that Spock and Lt. Uhura would be joining you," he tilted his head and flashed a suggestive look that could give one of Jim's a run for the money. "Sometimes I forget that young lovers often take advantage of such free time to be alone."

When Jim's eyes met Bones's, they were filled with panicked dismay.

"Oh shit," said the doctor.

.

Only someone who knew him well would be able to tell, but Ambassador Spock was, well, pissed was the only word for it. Thanks to the meld on Delta Vega, Jim knew him very well.

"I don't understand," the Vulcan said, proving that he was also confused by the information the captain and the doctor had just shared with him. "Why would he do such an idiotic thing?"

Bones took a swallow of his bourbon and glared at Spock.

"Why do you think he did it?" he asked belligerently. "The pointy-eared bastard soaked up all your stories about all the _fun_ we all supposedly had saving the universe and all, noticed Ms. Uhura didn't feature in any of the tales and decided her taggin' along would spoil all the… the, uh, _fun_!"

Jim grimaced and exhaled a long sigh. "I think I'd better take it from here, Bones," he said.

.

Ambassador Spock's lips thinned into a grim line. He didn't try to curb the annoyance he felt towards his younger or the anger directed at himself. Both had made poor choices which had resulted in pain for the last woman in the universe either should want to hurt. Still, what the young man sitting across the small table had asked of him was not wise.

"Jim," he said, not quite sighing, "have I not done enough damage? We have already seen one negative result of my interference."

"No offense intended, Spock," Jim said, grasping the edges of the table and leaning forward until his face was inches away from the old Vulcan's, "but don't you think you should take on a little responsibility for fixing this mess you admittedly helped make? Maybe he made a dumbass decision, but he did it because of the possible future _you_ told us about. And, if things have gone south between them, I don't want to lose the best communications officer over it. Besides, I really can't see how you could possibly make things any worse than they already were."

The elderly half-Vulcan raised a skeptical brow, but seemed to consider Jim's words. He was silent for a long time.

"I must admit a certain conceit led me to believe that Spock would be too intelligent not realize that one close relationship would not preclude the development of another," he said finally. "However, I did not account for the confusion and vulnerability I experienced when I was his age, nor did I consider the possibility that the events of his own altered upbringing might do anything other than better prepare him for engaging in such relationships. I was, to some extent, negligent. I assumed, rather illogically I see now, that his relationship with Lt. Uhura was a sign that he 'recognized a good thing' far earlier than I did."

Dumbstruck, Jim stared at his friend.

"You mean, you and Uhura…?"

The ambassador shook his head.

"No, Jim," he sad, rather sadly for a Vulcan. "By the time I realized my Nyota's value, she was no longer interested in pursuing anything more than friendship with me."

"Huh." Jim breathed, for want of anything else to say.

Spock's voice was grave when he spoke again. "I have no pressing obligations over the next two weeks," he said. "Perhaps, if they have not resolved their differences during their stay on Sbelisdim, I should speak with my younger self and find out exactly what he was thinking."

******

Nyota tugged at her uniform tunic to straightened. She smoothed down the black trousers she'd opted to wear for the first mine inspection, then turned to him, a mask of professionalism on her face.

"Are you ready to depart," she asked, picking up a large shoulder bag and shoving a few PADDs inside.

"I must offer you an apology," Spock said quietly. "It was never my intention for you to be harmed in any way by this. I see now that I should have followed the advice of both the captain and the doctor, and chosen another to fulfill the need."

"This isn't about the about the Pon farr! Do you get that?" Her eyes blazed with her anger. "It's what you did after that's so difficult. That's the part that was unforgivable.

"God, Spock! I was willing to do whatever was needed to save your life, but what happened on the beach wasn't a part of that, was it? Are you sorry about _that_, Commander?"

Spock mentally winced at the use of his title.

"I am sorry that my actions caused you anguish," he clarified. "What transpired on the beach was not entirely due to my Time, but neither was it unaffected by it. As I have already stated, it was instigated by my continued desire for you; it was brought to fruition because I am not yet entirely free of the Pon farr."

Her shoulders slumped as she sighed and turned away from him.

"I was willing, Spock," she repeated woodenly. "I would have done almost anything if it meant keeping you alive. But what you did — _loving_ me, and then saying that it didn't matter at all — it's breaking my heart. Even worse than when you left."

Had he been human, Spock suspected, he would have been compelled to pull her into his arms and promise to change, whether or not he truly intended to do so. Had he been fully Vulcan, he would have been repulsed by her display of emotion and would have needed to turn away from her. As a hybrid he was neither, so he watched, unmoving, as she wrapped her arms around herself.

.

"I always thought," she said, spinning to face him again, "that you chose to live as a Vulcan because that is the way you were raised, and because that was the choice that was made _for_ you. But you really _can't_ understand what it's like for us, can you? In spite of your heritage, humanity is as alien to you as Vulcanity is for a human."

His steady gaze faltered as she reached out a hand as if to touch his face, and she quickly recalled herself. Shaking her head, she clutched at her upper arm once more. She looked down at their feet, so close together.

"I never expected you to learn to be human," she whispered, "but I thought that you would always endeavor to understand and respect our differences."

She didn't see the myriad of emotions that flickered across his face following her speech. She didn't know that, while he had _not_ understood his effect on her, he felt her pain as deeply as she did.

"At one time," he said just as quietly as she had spoken, "I believed I did understand, Nyota. And you have always had my respect. It seems, however, that the one, without the full complement of the other, was not enough."

She didn't know what to say to that, so she said nothing.

After a full minute of silence had passed, she heard him walk away.

**********

Author's Note: Well, this story is winding down, folks. There are just two more chapters after this one. Thanks for letting me know more were needed!

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek or any of its characters or concepts.


	8. Mending Fences

It took a great deal of self-control to recompose herself and follow him out of the suite. If any head turned as they crossed the hotel lobby, it was to get a second look at her calm, pleasingly symmetrical face or to study her austere Vulcan companion. No one would have guessed at the maelstrom of emotional turmoil plaguing both Starfleet officers.

Over the next three days, in which they visited all seven of Sbelisdim's mines, Spock and Uhura maintained a coolly polite professionalism which had the unintended benefit of causing the mine officials to believe that the pretty human woman and handsome Vulcan man were not to be crossed. The inspections were completed without undue opposition.

She spent her evenings on the hidden beach or in the resort city, either or visiting the social establishments where she could practice her skill at languages on the native speakers that flocked there to take advantage of the planet's amenities.

He spent his evenings meditating, perusing science journals he had not had a chance to read on the ship and partaking of quiet meals in the suite.

The first day after the completion of the inspections, they avoided each other altogether. By the time dawn had broken on the second day, Uhura had come to a decision.

"We're stuck here together for another three days, Commander," she told him. "It's ridiculous for us to treat each other as strangers. We're colleagues, and we were once friends. I hope we can continue being both. The last thing I want is to get back to the ship and have everyone giving me funny looks again."

He did not question her about the "funny looks" she did not wish to receive "again." He suspected those were in some way related to the rumor (she assured him it was widespread) that he had left her for the ship's captain.

"I would like to be your friend as well, Lieutenant," he replied.

She gave a short nod of acknowledgment, but crossed her arms over her chest in what was clearing a gesture of self-protectiveness.

"I don't want you to think this will be easy," she said, her voice sounding slightly defensive. "I'm still really hurt, and really angry, but I _do_ understand your intentions were not malicious. So, I'm willing to try if you are."

Spock stared at her intently, trying, and failing, to determine the reason behind her rapid change of mind. _Was it simply a matter of easing the tension between them and of avoiding embarrassment once they returned to the Enterprise_? He could not tell, but as those were two results he both desired and could reasonably expect to achieve by agreeing to aid her in this endeavor, he was willing to agree. To almost anything.

"How would you suggest we begin?" he queried.

For just a moment, the woman standing before him looked helpless and at a loss for words. He was unaccustomed to seeing appear so unsure of herself. The thought that he was most likely responsible for the alteration was surprisingly painful.

"Maybe, maybe we should start with breakfast," she suggested uncertainly. "Together, I mean."

Spock inclined his head. "That would be agreeable," he said.

.

Sixty-eight point one hours later, Jim Kirk reached Spock on his communicator. Although they were no longer stiff and silent in one another's company, the half-Vulcan decided to let his human friend sleep for another five hours before sharing his news.

"Lt. Uhura," he said when she emerged from her room later in the morning, "I have received word from the Enterprise. They will reach standard orbit around Sbelisdim in three point six hours. You should be ready to beam up in four."

******

Returning to the starship meant ignoring the curious looks of crewmates who wondered how the former couple had managed to get along alone together for two weeks (or who wondered if the trip had facilitated a reconciliation) and dodging the captain's unsubtle attempts at cornering her to "see how you're doing."

Nyota couldn't ignore the ship's doctor when he ordered her to Sickbay for a full work up ("Gotta make sure he didn't brainwash you into lettin' him live!"), and, not being quite herself again yet, she wasn't quick enough to dodge an unexpected visitor to her quarters on the first night back.

She accepted Ambassador Spock's invitation to dinner because she couldn't think of an acceptable reason to decline. Half way to the officer's mess, it occurred to her that "I'm really tired from the trip" would have been suitable, but by then of course, it was too late.

.

"It's not your fault," she told him, reaching across the table to take his hand in hers. "You couldn't have known he would react that way."

Spock smiled grimly. "You are very kind to say so, Lieutenant," he told her, "but the truth is, I believe that had my pride not prevented me from sharing my own failures with my own Nyota Uhura, he may never have assumed that a life with you was ultimately impossible. If I had revealed to him what a, pardon the vernacular, 'fuck up' I had been with her, perhaps he would have worked doubly hard to ensure your own happiness."

Her tinkling laugher and the acceptance flowing through the touch of her hand suffused him with a sense of affection and warmth.

"You know," she confessed, "I _did_ blame you a little, at first. When I thought he and Jim had become a couple."

.

Spock watched the small brown hand slide over the much larger, pale wrinkled one. He glanced up in time to see his older self return Nyota's soft smile. Holding on the cold clarity of reason, he pushed down a tendril of something dark and painful blossoming in his abdomen.

Through a haze of conflicting inclinations, he forced his feet to carry him to their table. Absenting all traces of anger and jealousy from his voice, he greeted them both pleasantly.

She looked up at him with a smile that was no less warm than the one she had given the old half-Vulcan. He did not fool himself with the belief that this was a sign he had earned her forgiveness; more likely, the ease of her smile was a symptom of his decreased importance in her life.

"Spock, " she said, patting the chair next to her own, "join us."

"I cannot remain long," he informed them as he took his seat. "It is nearly time for my nightly meditation."

"I imagine it is." Ambassador Spock nodded sagely, but his young counterpart was certain the other's words were meant to be mocking.

Spock strove to show that he was unaffected by the familiarity being displayed between the woman he loved and the man who had once been him. He was successful for seven point four minutes the three of them chatted about inconsequential things. When his eyes flicked over to the wrinkled hand which had moved to cover Nyota's, he realized that he did not, in fact, possess the control needed to remain in their company any longer. He would need to meditate at once.

"Forgive me," he cut into Nyota's discourse on Sbelisdim's unique dilithium exaction process, "I must take my leave of you at this time."

"Oh," she said, looking up at him, a half smile touching her lips. "Have a good night, then, Spock."

"You, as well, Nyota," he said, nodding. He had not called her by her given name in five days.

The illogical thought that the ambassador's dark eyes were boring into him crossed his mind as he turned to bid his counterpart farewell.

"Ambassador," Spock said with a curt nod.

"Commander," Spock said without moving his head at all.

****

Jim fell into step with him just outside the mess doors.

"Spock, it isn't what you think," he said. It was clear even to the half-Vulcan that his voice was filled with pity. "They're just friends. Barely even that."

"I was unaware that you had developed telepathic abilities, Jim," Spock said coolly. "If you have, it would only be fair of me to tell you that they have failed you in this instance. You have misread my thoughts about Lt. Uhura's choice of acquaintance."

He turned towards the nearest turbolift, but Jim grabbed his shoulder.

"Bullshit. You still love her. You know it. I know it. She knows it. And the other you knows it."

Uncharacteristically, Spock heaved a deep sigh.

"T'hy'la, whatever feelings I may harbor for Nyota Uhura are irrelevant," he told his friend. "I made a choice to live apart from her when I first returned to the Enterprise instead of joining my people on the colony, and in doing so, I hurt her. I made another poor choice while we were on Sbelisdim, and in doing so, I caused her to feel I violated her trust in me.

"I relinquished any say I might have had in her personal life long ago. She is free to associate with whomever will help contribute to her happiness. And I, in fact, welcome the knowledge that she has such persons in her life."

Jim frowned at him. "You may welcome the _idea_, but can you handle the reality?"

*********

Author's Note: I have just one chapter left. Please tell me what you have thought of this.

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek and I do not get paid to use their characters in fan fiction.


	9. Possibilities

Kirk followed his first officer into the turbolift and then down the corridor to his quarters.

"I never should have let things go this far," he muttered. "I should have told you from the beginning how stupidly you were behaving. I guess… I guess I just thought you would come to your senses eventually."

Spock didn't even look at him as he quietly said, "You presume much, Jim, if you believe you could have swayed me once my mind was made up."

A rush of anger had the captain clenching his fists, but he forced himself not to raise his voice.

"Then, I shouldn't have allowed you to take her to Sbelisdim," he said in frustration. "I should have left you with no other option but the brothel. I should have protected— "

At the entrance to his quarters, Spock suddenly swung around to face him.

"Nyota Uhura does not require the protection of _any_ man," he stated imperiously. "Least of all yours, Captain."

Kirk noted with satisfaction the hint of possessiveness and pride in the half-Vulcan's voice. As he stepped into Spock's quarters, he wracked his brain for an argument that would serve as the final push towards making his friend — his _brother_ in all the ways that mattered — see reason. Or to at least understand why this was so important to him.

"Spock," he said, standing just inside the first officer's rooms, "Uhura is my friend, too. She and I haven't always gotten along, but… but she matters to me. And not just because she's the best damned communications officer in the fleet. Still, I want you to know something: if she leaves this ship because you're too much of an asshole to realize how good you have it, a woman like that actually _loving_ you, then your ass is mine. And this time, I'll _order_ you not to fight back. Am I making myself clear?"

The half-Vulcan stared at him for so long, Kirk was almost afraid he'd pushed too far. _Fuck it_, he decided. _Uhura was worth another beat down_. _She really _is_ the best at what she does, and damned good friend for all that I'm not sure what I've actually_ done _to deserve her friendship_.

"You are perfectly clear, t'hy'la," he said at last. "If you will excuse me, it is past time I began my meditation."

Sensing victory was near, Kirk decided it was time to back down.

"Okay," he said, stepping forward to enfold Spock in a quick, gruff embrace. "You do that. Just don't forget what I said."

"I will remember," he heard his t'hy'la say as he walked out the doors.

.

He had not completed his nightly meditation when he heard his door chime go. Although he chose to ignore the sound, he was not surprised when Ambassador Spock stepped into his quarters anyway.

He unfolded himself from his position on the floor and indicated that his visitor should sit.

The ambassador lowered himself onto the sofa and stared up at Spock.

"I erred in my dealings with the Nyota Uhura I knew, but none of my missteps were so egregious as your has been," his counterpart said without preamble. "For me, at least, it was over before it began."

"How is that any better than what I have done?" Spock asked, feeling somewhat taken aback, though he strove not to show it. "The end result was the same. Ms. Uhura lived her life as your friend, rather than your lover and, for a time, that was hurtful to her."

"Is it the truly the same?" the ambassador asked, titling his head. His look of serenity did not falter, even though Spock recognized the censure in his words. "She did not have a chance to experience my love, only to have it taken away from her. It is sometimes more difficult for humans to endure grief after enjoying great happiness."

"Humans frequently experience extreme emotional fluctuations," he replied, insistent. "It is fundamental to their nature."

Ambassador Spock's lips turned down at the corners. "Do you argue that you were justified in hurting her because the human population, as a whole, is accustomed to feeling both joy and sorrow?"

"That was not my meaning, no," the younger half-Vulcan said. "I merely intended to point out that quantifying the degree of emotion experienced by Nyota in either incarnation does not have a logical bearing on the degree of our respective, alleged, misdeeds."

"No _bearing_, Commander?" The inflection in the ambassador's tone was faint, but clear enough to Vulcan ears. "By similar argument, would you say that cutting off a man's hand was equal to cutting off his entire arm?"

"Although one may have somewhat more potential to incapacitate, both are equally brutal, yes," Spock countered.

"Nyota Uhura loves you," his counterpart stated, his dark eyes coldly intent. "You love her. You engaged, for several years, in a monogamous romantic relationship with her, which she had every reason to believe would culminate in bonding and marriage.

"Having ending ended that relationship because of a mistaken belief that you could not sustain it while entering into a friendship that may or may not lead to accomplishing great things for the universe, you continue withhold that love from her, continuing to hurt her, in spite of knowing that your premise for your initial withdrawal was based on imperfect knowledge, and therefore invalid.

"Do you truly believe this is not worse than my failure to recognize the merit of loving another Nyota Uhura?"

Spock found himself unable to answer. The ambassador was correct. His own actions had been worse. He fully intended to admit that. For the moment, however, the words would not come.

******

He hesitated outside her quarters. She had every reason to refuse him entry, he reflected. In spite of her resolution to rebuild their friendship, he knew that he had not been particularly friendly to her in the three days that had elapsed since their return to the Enterprise.

Dismissing his concerns as illogical, he sounded the door chime and announced himself.

Entering at her call of "Come," he did not allow himself a moment to change his mind.

"Lt. Uhura — Nyota — I would like to… try again," he said as soon as he reached the center of her tiny sitting room.

"Oh, Spock," she breathed, spinning in a slow, absent circle.

He moved with her, keeping her lithe form and beautiful visage in sight. A myriad of emotions crossed her face. He thought he recognized surprise, hope, joy, fear, anger. Her eyes were sad, in the end.

"I don't know…" she said, coming to a stop with her back towards the door.

He waited for her to say more. After fifteen point nine seconds of silence had passed, he realized he would have to speak. "Do you believe there might come a time when you _do_ know?"

Her eyes flashed angrily for a moment before sinking back into sadness.

"You really hurt me," she said quietly, those dark eyes never wavering from his. "Do you understand that? You didn't just use my body. That last time on Sbelisdim didn't happen because of Pon farr. You showed me you still loved me when you had no intention of letting me keep that love. You played with my heart, Spock."

He felt icy fingers clawing inside his torso. "I did not— I… I do know, k'diwa," he whispered, taking a step towards her in spite of believing it was the wrong thing to do. "I did not understand before. Now, I do."

She stepped back and his heart stuttered in his side.

"I don't know if I can do it again, Spock," she said, still watching him intently. "I don't know if I can let myself be happy with you if a part of me is constantly waiting for you to leave me again."

He stood still, arms loose at his sides, rather than behind his back. The urge to move toward her again was strong. The hurt of her moving away from him would be stronger, he knew.

"I would not willingly leave you again, ashayam," he said. Even to his own ears, he sounded as if he was pleading.

Some intense emotion flickered across her face, but was gone before he could identify it.

"I don't know, Spock," she said again, and this time, looked away.

Hope evaporated. He clasped his hands behind his back and squared his shoulders.

"Very well," he said coolly, evenly, though inside he was reeling from the blow of her words. "I will trouble no further on the matter."

Spock walked past her towards the door, careful to make his steps fluid and graceful, though he was not certain if she watched his departure or if she still stared off to her side, perhaps seeing nothing but the pain he had caused her over the past seven point three six months.

"Spock," she called out before he could exit her quarters.

He turned to see that she was facing him now, her face still unreadable.

"I did not say 'no,'" she murmured when he did not speak.

"Neither did you consent," he pointed out, afraid — _yes, this was _fear — to hope.

She took a single step in his direction.

"Because I really _don't_ know," she told him.

Understanding began to blossom in his mind. He stepped towards her again.

"How can I assist you in reaching a decision?" he asked quietly.

She took another step.

"Let me… get to know you again," was her answer.

He stopped himself just short of telling her she already knew him better any other sentient being aside from his counterpart.

"What must I do?" he asked instead as his long stride placed him directly in front of her.

Looking up into his eyes, she stood so close he could feel the lower temperature of her skin.

"Spend time with me," she said. "Time without… without everything from before."

Though her explanation lacked definition, he had once been the lover of the best communications officer in Starfleet and he understood her meaning. He acknowledged its logic.

His forehead dropped until it was nearly touching hers.

"It shall be as you wish, Nyota," he promised.

"I'm not making any promises," she said. "In the end, I might still decide this isn't worth a broken heart."

"Then we shall both be taking a risk," he whispered.

Her answering smile, tremulous and accompanied by unshed tears though it was, was the most he could ask for.

**********

Author's note: That's the end. I realize I originally wrote that I had two more chapters at the end of seven _and_ at the end of eight. That was a mistake. This is it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek and I do not get paid to use their characters in fan fiction.


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